


Therapy Time

by captainamergirl



Category: General Hospital
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Short Story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 02:38:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16188335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainamergirl/pseuds/captainamergirl
Summary: Elizabeth and Sam turn to therapy to help exorcise their demons.





	Therapy Time

**Author's Note:**

> **This will be short. It's set in 2009 or thereabouts.**

**_Elizabeth_ **   
  
I see Lainey headed towards her office with a grilled chicken salad sandwich in a plastic container and a cup off cafeteria coffee on a plastic lunch tray. I secretly checked her schedule so I know she is taking an hour lunch today. I know she’ll have time to squeeze me in. She has to.  _She just has to._ I have turned this problem over backwards and forwards in my mind and I can’t make sense of it. I don’t relish talking to a psychiatrist but Lainey’s also a friend and it’s confidential and I know she can’t say anything and she wouldn’t because she’s the soul of digression. God, at least I  _hope_ so.   
  
I hurry over to her and say, “Dr. Winters –“   
  
“Lainey,” she corrects me.   
  
“Lainey,” I say. “I wondered if I could have a moment to talk to you about something important …” I start losing my nerve as soon as those words are out of my mouth. “I mean, you look busy so I can come back –“   
  
“Elizabeth, its fine,” Lainey says and cradles her lunch tray in one arm as she pushes open the door and holds it back for me while I walk inside.   
  
I look around. I’ve been in here before, of course I have, but never as a patient. If that’s what she is going to think I am. Which she probably already does because I am looking around and around, trying to decide if I lay down on the couch and prop my feet up like in old movies, or if I should just sit in the high backed leather chair.    
  
Ultimately, I choose the chair. “Make yourself comfortable,” Lainey says as if that were possible. I am in a psychiatrist’s office – a psychiatrist’s office in a hospital I work at – about to spill my feelings to someone when I can’t even make sense of them on my own. But that’s what Lainey’s here for – to listen to me and then tell me how to move on; how to stop wishing and hoping for things that can and never will be. She has to, or I’m royally screwed, in the words of Lucky.    
  
Lucky. Lucky. Lucky.   
  
Jason. Jason. Jason.   
  
I should be thinking about one of them. They should be the ones on my mind, the ones causing my blood pressure to elevate and making my heart race. They are both wonderful men and yet they aren’t the ones who are driving me stark raving mad. They aren’t the ones who brought me to this office. It was someone else. Someone else entirely.   
  
“Elizabeth.  _ELIZABETH?”_ Lainey says, interrupting my thoughts. “You came here to talk. I am interested in hearing what you have to say.”   
  
“I don’t know, Dr. – I mean, Lainey,” I say. “I mean, I am probably wasting your time. You have real patients who need your help –“   
  
“Elizabeth, spill it,” Lainey finally says, sounding a tad bit exasperated which I figure anyone would be when confronted with a hemming and hawing basket case.   
  
“Okay, I know I shouldn’t even ask but this is just between us, right?”   
  
Lainey nods. “Of course.” Anyone else would have been insulted but not her. Not Lainey. She’s understanding. She will understand this; I know she will.   
  
“Okay, where should I start?”   
  
“Wherever you feel comfortable,” Lainey says.   
  
“Well none of this makes me feel comfortable to be honest. I mean, she’s a bitch. Yes, I said it. She’s a bitch. She’s a homewrecker. She has done all kinds of insane and horrible things to me and my children. I should hate her. I should LOATHE her –“   
  
_“Her?”_ Lainey pops in. “So this is about a woman?”   
  
I duck my face behind my hair for a moment and then look up. “Yeah, yeah, it is. And it’s not just any woman. It’s my worst enemy.”   
  
“Let me guess. Alexis Davis’s daughter. Sam McCall?”   
  
I nod. I didn’t want to say or hear Her name because it makes this all too real. It makes me think again about what could be if we were just two different people. Two entirely different people. If she wasn’t a crazy vindictive slut and I wasn’t in her mind, this uptight, annoying bitchy hypocrite. If we were just Liz and Sam. Just two women. No complicated history. No hatred. No men in common …   
  
“Yeah, yeah, it’s her.”   
  
“Say her name, Elizabeth,” Lainey instructs me.   
  
“Why?”   
  
“Because I think you’re scared of her in a way, and I always encourage my patients to face their fears.”   
  
Oh god. I am her patient now. I knew this was a bad idea. But since she knows half of it she might as well know the rest too. “I’m not scared of her, Lainey; I’m scared of what she does to me.”   
  
“What does she do to you?”    
  
I begin to play with the pens on Lainey’s desk anxiously, arranging them by color and style and brand just because I am stalling for time. Lainey has another patient (someone calling herself “Jane Doe”) following me in less than twenty minutes and if I can just stall until then she’ll have to kick me out without knowing how I feel. Because I don’t know how I feel. Or I tell myself I don’t.   
  
“Say her name please, Elizabeth,” Lainey says again. “Then take three really deep breaths and tell me what she does to you that intimidates you so much.”   
  
“Okay … Sam. It's Sam. And what she does to me, Lainey?” I ask, noting that I sound shrill even to my own ears. “She makes me feel like I could just lose control. That I could be anything and do anything I want to.”   
  
“And you can’t?”   
  
“No, I can’t. I am a mother. I have obligations and responsibilities …”   
  
“Being a mother doesn’t mean you have to close off on yourself or shut down your feelings.”   
  
“I feel like it does,” I say quietly. “She –“   
  
Lainey looks at me sternly.    
  
“Sorry. SAM. Sam she makes me feel dangerous and reckless and wild. And –“   
  
“Sexual?”   
  
“Lainey!” I yelp.   
  
“Well does she?”   
  
“Uh, yes,” I say. “I guess so …”   
  
“So what are you so afraid of?” Lainey asked. “Why can’t you tell Sam how you feel? Are you worried about the stigma of being a homosexual?”   
  
I gasp a little. I never even stopped to consider that I might be gay. Grandmother would be mollified, but for some reason I’m not. I am not scared to be gay, or lesbian, or bi, or just curious. It’s just this is Sam McCall. Sam the baby endangering psycho. Sam the mentally unstable slutty person. Sam, the amazingly beautiful, sensual, want to throw her up against a wall and attack her full lips, woman.   
  
“No, I’m not. It’s just Sam. She’s all wrong for me. She has hurt me and my kids. She has wrecked my life and blamed all of her problems on me –“   
  
“And you still want to be with her?” Lainey puts in.   
  
I nod weakly. “Yeah, isn’t that insane?”   
  
Lainey shakes her head. “No, it’s actually quite normal. And trust me, I’m a psychiatrist; I understand insanity. I understand that you’re scared though. Scared to let go and live a little. Don’t be, Elizabeth.  _Carpe diem.”_   
  
She looks at the clock on the wall. “Can we continue this after work? My next patient will be here any minute.”   
  
“Sure, sure that would be fine,” I say and jump to my feet. “T-thanks, Lainey. Thanks a lot.”   
  
“You’re welcome.”   
  
I open the door and nearly get a fist in my face. She’s standing there in front of me.  _Sam._ And she’s poised to knock when she sees me. She looks as shocked and perturbed as I feel. But I hope she doesn’t notice me eyeing her in her low-riding jeans and too-snug-for-her-own good white tank top.    
  
“Nice scrubs,” she says acidly after we break eye contact and then she literally shoves past me and slams the door in my face.   
  
All I can do is pray that Lainey keeps her word and doesn’t mention the conversation we just had.


End file.
